Power
by a-wonderful-afterlife
Summary: Merlin could feel his power. Based on princessmelia's 81st CentiStories entry, Power. Merlin fights Morgana and tries not to lose himself in the process.


**A/N: Firstly, the disclaimer: I own Merlin and his pants. In my dreams :3**

**Now, this little beauty came to me after reading princessmelia's CentiStories, number 81 - Power: "Merlin could feel his power" It inspired me to write this, and every word from her drabble is included here, and it's all in order too!  
For those of you following Without Arms and Armour, I've been working on a few other things at the same time while I've had the muse to. It shouldn't be long before I'm able to get the next chapter finished.**

**This is beta'd by and dedicacted to princessmelia :)**

**AWA x**

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They were fighting. Not with swords, but with magic. Spells ricocheted off barriers and were deflected by a wave of a hand. Everything was happening so quickly that no one dared to approach the pair that stood duelling in the middle of the throne room.

Morgana had, once again, invaded the castle. The knights and guards had put up a fight as best as they could, but they were only men and the witch easily batted them all aside. It was Merlin that had finally brought her to a halt in the entrance to the throne room, where his King and Queen were sat on their thrones.

_"Can you not take a hint, Morgana?" Arthur's voice carried easily across the vast room. "Even when we didn't directly face you with magic, before, you still lost. It may have taken us time to regain what you had taken, but you haven't won against us yet, and your endeavours shall not succeed now."_

_Morgana's eyes had blazed with anger. Arthur hadn't so much as stood to greet her, looking down at her from his throne as Merlin stepped down from the dais to stand at the foot of the steps. He moved slowly, confidently, and with a look in his eyes that was pained and yet spoke of his anger towards Morgana's opposition to Arthur's right to the throne. It was indisputable, to Merlin, that Arthur was the only one fit to rule Camelot. Arthur was the Once and Future King and despite Morgana being the elder sibling, she had been estranged from her birth right by both her father and destiny._

"_I shall give you that, brother, I did not know who it was that was thwarting my plans. But now I know your know your little servant is also your pet warlock, I know just the thing to get rid of him," the witch laughed._

It was then that the fighting had begun.

His magic was burning through him, thick and fast, filling him with such an overwhelming sensation of power that he barely knew what to do with it. Merlin had never felt such a rush in his life.

_This must be how Arthur feels when he hunts,_ he thought. _No wonder he loves it so much._

It would be so easy to become drunk on the feeling, to forget why he was fighting Morgana and why he protected Arthur and Gwen so vehemently. Merlin could feel his own power running through him, the thrill that comes with knowing you are unstoppable. A smile spread across his face, uncontrollable as he started to feel giddy.

He redoubled his efforts against the witch, driving her into a corner. It was awe-inspiring, how easily he could now tap into his full power as he faced the sorceress. Morgana could never beat him, no one ever could.

That's when he realized how much of himself he would lose if he gave into this monster, the monster in him that craved only power. The smile slipped from his face almost immediately, his eyes going wide in realisation of what he was doing. He stopped himself from committing murder just in time; that monster would not be released today.

Silence fell as Merlin ceased his attack and let his arms fall to his sides, staring at Morgana. She was crouched beneath her shield, shaking - whether from exhaustion or fear, Merlin couldn't tell. Her head was down and her bangs covered her face. Nonetheless, the manservant turned so he didn't have to look at her. His mind was churning over what had just happened, what he had almost allowed to happen.

"Leave, Morgana," Merlin told the witch. His voice was quiet, but full of authority and the threat of what would happen should she stay any longer. "Leave, and never return to these halls again."

Morgana, upon realising that she was no longer under attack, dispelled her shield and stood to face the warlock. She wiped any trace of fear from her face and pushed back her shoulders. Then she smiled. It wasn't a smile to cover her nerves or fear, or a sarcastic and hate-filled smirk, but an honest-to-gods, gleeful smile.

"Did you feel it, Merlin?" she asked, taking a step towards said young man. Merlin looked at her in surprise, taking half a step away from her advances. Morgana's smile widened as she cocked her head to one side. "You did, didn't you? And you enjoyed it. That rush of power, the feeling of invincibility. It's addictive, is it not?"

"Only to those who would abuse its power," Merlin retorted, squaring off to face Morgana once again if he had to.

Morgana huffed a quiet laugh and shook her head, still smiling. "You really are naïve, Merlin," she cooed. "But don't worry. I'll be back." And with that said, Morgana recited the words of the Old Religion and was swept up in a gust of magic, transporting herself out of Camelot.

Merlin stood staring at the spot where Morgana had just been stood. He knew now what Morgana had meant before, by it being easier to get rid of Merlin now that he was out in the open. She knew that he had never fought with his magic as he had on that day, against an opponent as strong and resilient as Morgana, and she had known that that rush of magic was one he was unaccustomed to. It scared him.

It scared him that she knew how it would affect him; how he would relish in the feeling of the power he possessed.

However, there was one thing that Morgana had not counted on.

"Merlin?" Arthur said, coming up from behind his friend and placing a careful hand on the servant's shoulder. "Are you okay, Merlin?"

Merlin swallowed thickly, feeling the adrenaline rush fade from his system completely. He was feeling shaken, his breathing coming in deep gasps as if he had just run a mile without rest. He used Arthur to ground himself, feeling the solidarity behind that one touch, the friendship imbued into the king's smile. It was for this man that Merlin existed, and so long as this one man remained, Merlin would not lose himself to his magic.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Merlin nodded briskly.

Arthur's grip tightened reassuringly on Merlin's shoulder as he detected the lie. It was all there in Merlin's eyes; he wasn't okay. But he would be. The king smiled and nodded to him in thanks. "Good. Now come, there are things that need to be done."

Nodding, Merlin glanced back at where Morgana had disappeared from, before turning and following his king from the room. The injured knights and guards had been evacuated by the able knights and servants while Merlin had been fighting, and the courtiers had left as soon as they had been able to, too scared of being caught in the fallout to stay and watch in awe of the blatant display of magic.

The throne room was looking beaten and bedraggled, but it could wait. For now, Merlin was happy to just follow Arthur and fall into his humbling roll as a mere servant. It was days like these that made him resent the druid prophesies, but also made him thankful of the things he had to hold onto.

**Word count: 1,221**


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